


Drunk Oneshot

by girahimu_sama



Series: Post-Canon Thiefshipping Oneshots [10]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alcohol, Citronshipping (post canon), M/M, Thiefshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:09:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6366079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girahimu_sama/pseuds/girahimu_sama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik and Bakura get really drunk and talk about who they'd fuck. Thief/citronshipping, post canon, really silly oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk Oneshot

**Author's Note:**

> It's exactly what the title says (because I didn't really have a name for this thing...) Just a dumb idea I felt like writing, not really serious, kind of sweet. Not much plot to be found here.

“Kaiba,” Malik said, sitting up so he could take a drink without it spilling down his face.

 

“Ugh... no.” Bakura wrinked his nose, trying to imagine the CEO wanton and naked instead of putting up his usually hardass persona. “Can you imagine? You probably wouldn't even be able to get him into bed without bringing your deck with you.”

 

Malik snickered and laid back down on the carpet next to the thief, gazing upwards as though the sky were stretched above them instead of the off-white of his apartment ceiling. Even if they could see the sky right now, clouds would be covering it and there wouldn't be any visible stars. Rain pattered against the window, a dreary rhythm to backdrop their silly game.

 

Only a few drinks, they'd said. Now they'd lost track of time, the room was spinning and everything was hilarious. Especially some of the suggestions they were coming up with.

 

“Uh... what was his name.” Malik thought for a moment, the words he was looking for fumbling in his hazy consciousness. “Right. What about Otogi?”

 

Bakura thought for a moment, recalling dark hair and piercing green eyes. “Well, he's got looks going for him at least. Sure.” He tucked his arms behind his head. “What about Jonouchi?”

 

Malik grimaced. “Awkward.”

 

Feeling mischievious, Bakura smirked. “Ryou?”

 

Malik rolled his head back and laughed, wheezing and breathless. His expression was genuine, eyes crinkling at the corners slightly, his hair a mess. Something about it made Bakura dizzier than he already was. “Shut the fuck up.”

 

The thief chuckled with him. “Yeah, nothing beats the original...”

 

“What, did you two ever do it? I mean sharing the same body and all...”

 

Bakura shook his head and propped himself up on his elbows so he could reach for his cooler, knocking the rest of it back. He frowned as he thought of something along the same lines as their game, since they were on the topic of _hypothetical_ fucking...

 

“No, but do you think Yugi and the Pharaoh ever...” He made a face. Even through his alcohol induced stupor, he felt a bad mood rising, so he stopped himself right there. “You know what, nevermind. I don't want to know.”

 

Malik was silent for a few moments. After a short pause he spoke again.

 

“What if it had to be a girl?”

 

Bakura turned onto his stomach, chin resting in one hand, a mockingly curious glint in his eye. “Something you're not telling me, Malik?”

 

Malik threw his hands up in exasperation. “I'm running out of people.”

 

Bakura scoffed. “If I had to fuck a girl I'd sooner bite my own limbs off.” Perhaps that was a bit dramatic; it was more like he'd rather not sleep with anyone that wasn't Malik. Few people were worth his time.

 

“Don't be lame, just answer.”

 

“Isis.” Bakura grinned at him, cackling when Malik smacked his shoulder. The other male's face was so flushed it made the thief laugh harder.

 

“Don't even joke like that.”

 

“Well fuck, I don't even know that many girls...” Bakura's laughter died down into little hiccups. Really, the only other one he knew was Anzu, and the thought of shagging anyone from Yugi's cult was downright repulsive. “How about you?”

 

Malik's mouth twisted in a cute fashion as he thought. No doubt his options were just as limited.

 

“Mai.”

 

Bakura nodded slowly in consideration. He'd almost forgotten all about the Kujaku girl. He supposed she was alright. Respectable, at least.

 

He pushed himself up to his feet, teetering as he did so, and started the short walk to the bathroom.

 

“Don't fall over.” Malik advised as Bakura stepped over him.

 

“I'm not that drunk,” Bakura snapped, disappearing into the bathroom. He felt giddy. Good, but giddy. He didn't notice how much the room was spinning until he was alone, and almost fell over while he did his business, grabbing the shower curtain for support.

 

When he returned he was snorting at his own intoxicated state. He dropped like a stone back down next to Malik, knees hitting the floor with more force than he'd expected.

 

“Okay, I'm pretty drunk,” he reconciled, arms spread out on the floor and face nuzzling the carpet. It was so plush and comfortable. He could sleep here...

 

“It's just like that time at Ryou's after we did the ritual.”

 

Bakura rolled his eyes, wanting to shoot some smart remark back; Malik said that nearly every time they got smashed. It was like a tradition for him. Instead, he shot the other a suggestive look and smoothly shifted over to lay atop him – or as smoothly as he could manage at the moment. It turned out kind of awkward, legs bumping together, Bakura struggling with his balance as he situated himself over the other. “Oh? Is this gonna end the same way?”

 

Even with the slightly unfocused look in his eyes, Malik still looked devious, his hands dragging up Bakura's body and hiking up his clothing as he went.

 

“Mm, I think we're sooner going to end up passed out.”

 

“Nah.” Bakura sealed their lips together, the taste of liqour thick and heavy between them. Licking his way inside Malik's mouth, he rubbed their bodies together. The moan that arose from Marik's throat only seemed to deepen the haze of booze and hormones that had built up around them. He had to pull away to steady himself, hand tangling in Malik's hair. He exhaled, momentarily distracted by the softness, it was like silk against his skin.

 

“You have nice fucking hair.” He whispered, brain-to-mouth filter not quite working properly, dropping back down and burying his face against the side of Malik's head. He inhaled deeply, the scent of jasmine flooding his senses.

 

Malik chuckled, hands running over Bakura's back. “You really are wasted. Enough to compliment me, at least.”

 

“Shut up.” Bakura growled against his neck, peppering it with kisses. “Maybe I'd compliment you more if you weren't such an arrogant prick.”

 

“You love it.”

 

“I love you,” he muttered back, the words delivered like an insult, like he was trying to one-up the other. It was only after Malik had gone rigid in surprise that he realized what he'd said, both of their eyes widening. He looked away, face feeling impossibly warm. It wasn't like he hadn't said it before, he just didn't make a point of saying it often, and he hadn't meant to let it slip now.

 

“Alcohol...” he said, even quieter. It was a half-hearted excuse and he knew it.

 

“Yeah,” Malik agreed even as he smiled and rolled them over, hand cradling Bakura's side. He squeezed his hip, fingers slipping under the fabric of his sweater and the shirt he wore beneath as he drew kisses from the other's mouth.

 

Bakura wrapped his arms and legs around him, hooking his feet at the ankle behind Malik. He squirmed in delight as hands mapped his chest, hissing impatiently. Malik pried his arms off for a moment so he could work him out of his sweater and shirt. Things became a blur, a pleasant mix of warmth and sensation, minds detached and far away. Bakura keened when Malik's mouth lapped at his nipple, teeth tugging at it while his fingers twisted the other. He pawed needily at Malik's shoulders, his chest, his arms, anything he could reach.

 

Malik pulled back to stare down at his face, breathing hard – no doubt as flushed as Bakura looked. The thief's eyelashes were fluttering and his gaze looked unfocused, but the hand that reached up to palm Malik through his trousers didn't seem to have a problem conveying what he wanted. The former tomb keeper grinned, bowing his head to capture the other male's lips once more, and then moving lower to tease his chest, heedless of the withering impatient noises coming from Bakura. His fingers toyed with the button of Bakura's pants.

 

He was halfway through unzipping Bakura's jeans when a soft snore drifted to his ears. Malik stopped and looked back up to find the thief's face relaxed and peaceful as he dozed. His arms had fallen away from Malik's shoulders, carelessly flung out at his sides instead.

 

Blinking, Malik was stunned into silence for several seconds, and then he burst into laughter. Under other circumstances he probably would have been insulted, but they were both pretty hammered and he wasn't too surprised. Sighing fondly, he pulled away and scooped the thief up, moving him over to the bed with some difficulty. He finished pulling off Bakura's jeans, leaving him in only his boxers, and then stumbled to the kitchen to fill a glass with water. The thief would thank him later. He left the glass on the bedside table, shedding his own clothing before slipping under the covers himself.

 

That done, he wrapped an arm around Bakura's middle, nuzzling into his shoulder blades. He followed Bakura's example, drifting off to deal with the hangover later.

 


End file.
